


Oh Gods Why

by Katreal



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, I regret everything, and posted after gathering years of dust at her behest, but it's all dyra's fault, but mostly headcanons, references crisis core, sort of not really a relationship, this fic was written at her urging, weird take on before sephiroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:29:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katreal/pseuds/Katreal
Summary: Hojo might not always tell the truth. But he never lied to Sephiroth.SHE really was his mother, in all the ways that counted.





	Oh Gods Why

Everyone thought he was being metaphorical.

Everyone knew Hojo did not… _love._

People said he “loved” his work.  Perhaps more than anyone had a right to. He worked long hours, spending days with his nose stuck in a book following up on even the most obscure idea that struck his fancy.

However…those research binges weren’t for his own little projects—he didn’t _have_ any. No direction. No focus. Nothing. He floated around in Mako Sciences for years, learning the ins and outs of the fascinating substance, but with nothing to apply the knowledge to...

Energy. Bah.

Boring.

Wasted potential.

And he _hated_ it.

He hated it all…until they found _her._

A relic from ancient times, preserved in the ice and snow.

x-x-x

“ _Shit!”_

The explicative made Hojo twitch, black eyes narrowing on the assistant who was _supposed_ to be lowering the specimen into the chamber. He could see the man favoring his right hand, could see red joining the green stains on the once white glove.

Blood. What had the idiot cut himself on? If Professor Gast’s assistants couldn’t even do such an _elementary_ task correctly, Hojo knew he was going to be tearing his hair out before two weeks were done.

“Get that thing wrapped and covered, or you will contaminate the whole batch.” Hojo snapped over the intercom from the observation chamber, “You!” He didn’t know their names, he didn’t care to. The assistants looked at each other—there were three—and finally one of the non-injured members pointed at themselves in question, “Yes, you! Are you deaf? Take over his task. This should have been done five minutes ago.”

He flicked off the switch, and watched them scramble. The feed from the chamber was still going, and he could hear the assistants talking amongst themselves.

“Did you stab yourself with the implements, Jeth? This thing is duller than a pencil!”

“Hell if I know. I think it was the thing’s skin. One of the shoulder ridges. Sliced clear through my glove.”

“I don’t see a stain…I guess your glove caught most of the blood. Didn’t realize they were sharp…Just be glad none of it dripped into the chamber. We would have to sterilize the whole thing and start over.”

Hojo snorted. He should make them do that anyway, it was a good, cautious habit to get into. When dealing with a volatile substance such as Mako, you did _not_ want unknown contaminants in the equation. He didn’t think a little blood would affect the P-D31 compound they would fill the tank with but Hojo did not want _anything_ going wrong on his watch. Not when this was his chance to prove himself to the Director.

 _His_ own project.

Well, technically it was still under Gast’s supervision. He _was_ the leading expert on the Cetra, being in possession of the last living member of that species.

But these remains…Gast was sure they were Cetra remains…well, that had been given to _Hojo_ to study.

He watched like a hawk as the last of the instruments were inserted and the chamber sealed. The woman-shaped lump of frozen and partially crystallized flesh just hung there, suspended by wires.

And then the mako began to flow. It pooled around her feet, a light, clear blue rather than the poisonous green it usually held. P-D31, a specially mixed and modified compound to preserve organic flesh and tissue. Really, it was a marvel they had found such well-preserved remains. Corpses did not remain long in this world. Human bodies dissolved unless otherwise treated, but the strata this woman had been found in had been dated _thousands_ of years old.

Hojo dismissed the assistants once the tank had been completely full, the specimen floating carefully in the center of the mixture. Mako had that effect on organic tissue. It cradled it. Where an apple might float on top of a river, mako _held_ it.

He needed time alone. Time to study. Time to think. And he couldn’t think if he had to watch out for moronic assistants. Hojo picked up his notes, stepping out of the observation space and into the room itself. He immediately dismissed them once their task was done, turning his attention to the center of the room.

Time had taken its toll on what had once been a woman. A Cetra, Gast had decided, based on DNA analysis and the shared DNA markers they’d been able to get off the other female specimen, after accounting for genetic drift and cross-species mingling with humans.

The other Cetra was far more human-like—the result of interbreeding perhaps? This specimen had odd skin coloration—a dark blue, with a marbling pattern of lighter shades. The skin wasn’t smooth, with raised lines here and there—the ridges perhaps? Materia crystals had a tendency to form on objects left submerged in mako for too long, but they had never tried human flesh before.

The hair a pale white—bleaching? Or could it be natural? Mako exposure did strange things to the coloring and physical appearance of contaminated wildlife. They _needed_ more trials of mako on humans. All Hojo had to go by were the cases of poisoning in the early development stages of the reactors. He shifted through the contents of his memory, thumbing through the pages until he found the information. Most were mental effects—none had been exposed long to the substance. Delusions. Ranting. Reduction in brain activity, resulting in a vegetable-like state. He didn’t know what the physical effects would be…

Perhaps this was a good time to find out. The Northern Crater, where the specimen had been found, was one of the most mako-rich places in the world. If he could study the mutations on this corpse—Cetra were biologically different from humans, true, but they _were_ close enough to interbreed—then perhaps he could begin another study on human tissue for comparison…

Were the strange growths of flesh the result of this as well? They extended from the shoulders and upper back—Hojo continued his slow pace around the mako filled capsule, continuing to scratch notes as he did so—tan, with shades of darker brown worked into them. They didn’t appear to have any sort of defined shape to them, no indication of a skeletal structure to be seen. He’d considered they had once been wings, but the lack of skeleton made that unlikely.

He made it around the front, nose still buried into his notes, furiously writing down every thought, every speculation he had. Some of it was garbage. He knew that. He didn’t have enough data to have anything _but_ garbage. But the act of writing helped him think, and he intended to shift through it later, to see if anything had merit—

He looked up, and froze.

Her eyes. They had been closed. Frozen shut in death.

Now…

They seared into his soul. Red, the color of blood, set into a flawless blue face. They glowed with an inner light, _life_.

_Power._

She was _alive._

And she was _beautiful_.

x-x-x

Why didn’t anyone see it?

Hojo stood before her now, one hand barely touching the glass separating him from the specimen within. The equipment had been changed over the last few weeks, shifting from a generic baseline, to full blown diagnostics. A metal helmet tamed her hair—an EEG to monitor brain activity. They hadn’t expected to need one for a _corpse—_ long strands obscured one side of her face, only showing one gleaming red eye to the world.

Gast was a fool, besotted with that _girl._ She was a half-breed, raised human by humans. She would tell them nothing they didn’t already know.

Now this… _this_ was a true Cetra. He could feel her burning gaze upon him, and Hojo smiled a wide, besotted smile. She was _alive._  A thousand years, and she was _alive._ Was this the power of mako? To give eternal life? Her eyes glowed just as materia did, with magic and power.

Why didn’t anyone see the marvel that was in front of him?

The opportunity?

_Eternal Life._

_Power._

Was it her origins as a Cetra that gave her life? Her power? That wasn’t backed up by the data on the _girl._ Ilfalna. But was her shortcomings a result of her human heritage? Or was the specimen’s advantage from something else?

The mako perhaps?

JENOVA

He traced the letters with his eyes, the name he’d given her. He didn’t much care for names. He usually just called something Specimen A or B. But not her. She was worth more than a measly Project J, even if that was how he recorded it in his notes.

Ilfalna had spoken of a Promised Land. Hojo had thought of it as utter trash, superstition. Now…Hojo wondered if there was truth to the story.

The Promised Land.

The Land of the Undying.

One thing he knew for sure—Ilfalna would not be the one to lead them there.

 _Jenova_ would. He could feel it.

x-x-x

It wasn’t long before Gast returned to Midgar, leaving Hojo in charge of the Nibelhiem lab, and in charge of what he thought was merely archeological work on a millennia old fossil.

Hojo smiled as he saw the ShinRa truck drive away, pulling aside the Turk who remained assigned to ensure the safety and proper use of ShinRa property. “I need to speak to President ShinRa.”

The Turk didn’t blink, but he did arch an eyebrow in question.

“I know you have a line to the Leader. Tell him to tell the President…I have a proposal for him.”

“Oh?” The tone was mildly amused, “And what would you have to offer him?”

“The thing every man dreams of.” Especially arrogant narcissists like the President, “Eternal Life.”

Before the week was out, Nibelhiem gained an influx of people. Scientists. Turks to guard the scientists.  And…prisoners.

Rebels. Wutaian spies. Even the occasional murderer.

Human trials needed human specimens. As he’d expected, morals were a small price to pay for a man like ShinRa.

x-x-x

Hojo swept into one of the observation rooms, only taking a quick glance to see who was in charge of this specific project. He’d allowed the accredited scientists a rather large amount of autonomy when it came to their personal trials. This one belonged to the only female scientist who’d joined his staff. He didn’t know her name.

Not that it mattered. The people were inconsequential in comparison to the science.

He came to a stop beside her, his hands clasped behind his back as he peered through the one-way mirror. The specimen was on the other side. It was…a scrawny looking man. The amount of scars covering the body showed that he hadn’t always been that way. A rebel perhaps? One used to battle?  Obviously malnourished. He was crumpled in the center of the room, staring blankly at the wall with glowing green eyes.

“Another vegetable.” Hojo sneered, his eyes flickering to the trail of drool running down the man’s chin. Disgusting. “Have you discovered _anything_ useful with this?”

Two months into the project, and their subject pool was growing thin. Hojo had more glowing eyed vegetables than he could make a salad with. The eyes were a good sign—he flashed back to those deep entrancing pools of red, radiating life and power and _intellect—_ but they appeared to be the only observable change.

“Actually, yes. Yes I have.” She smiled at him. Waiting. Hojo didn’t appreciate the delays. Or the dramatics. “Well? Get on with it.”

She reached down to one of the buttons on the console—an intercom—“Would you please let in one of the monsters?”

The curt affirmative told him that the responder was one of the Turks. They made for far better lab assistants than the actual assistants did. They followed orders with meticulous efficiency, and due to the nature of their job…

Well, Hojo might have had some issues with the assistants…getting squeamish. The Turks that remained didn’t appear to have that problem.

Hojo watched with mild interest as a side door was opened, and a shriek sounded, muffled by the reinforced glass dividing the two rooms. Something dark and fast flew into the room, aiming straight for the crumpled vegetable. He scoffed when he recognized it as a Black Bat, one of the monsters native to the cave network Professor Gast had refurbished into a laboratory. “We are not here to feed the monsters, Doctor. Such a waste.”

“Just watch, Professor.” She just kept smiling.

A disbelieving stare, but he did turn back to the window, just as the monster dived the helpless lump of human flesh.

The chattering was harsh and loud, coming in more through the speakers set into the console than through the glass now. Fangs tore into exposed flesh, tearing off a chunk of the man’s shoulder—

Hands shot up, snatching the bat and its meal by the wings. A twist of muscles, almost too fast for Hojo to see, and the thing was torn in half, bones breaking  and the furry body ripping to pieces.

The broken bat fell in chunks to the floor, scattered around the man who had no right to be able to do such a thing. His face was still as blank as ever.  Hojo greedily devoured the scene, taking in the man’s hands and bloodied wound. This was progress! Any sort of response was far more than any of the previous subjects had exhibited! And that strength… Perhaps it was a remnant of the past, but the undernourished and wasted body should not be enough to have such a result on that large bat.

“The subject shows an astounding increase in physical capabilities and reflexes…” He muttered to himself, allowing his mental notes to slip out of his mouth, “As well as a rudimentary awareness of its surroundings. Perhaps if we tweak the formula we could allow the subject to retain its mind…”

“That’s not all, Professor.” She interrupted him, “Look at his shoulder.”

Irritated at her for interrupting his train of thought, Hojo shot her a glare. But curiosity overthrew stubbornness, and Hojo did as she asked.

The wound.

It was _gone._

Blood still covered the skin, dark and crusty as it dried.

But the place where the bat’s fangs had pierced…The place where that chunk of human flesh had once been…

 _Healed._ Nothing more than a faint scar remained.

“ _Regeneration.”_ He couldn’t help the delighted grin, “What did you use?”

Using mako on its own had quickly been ruled out as impractical—it overloaded the subject’s mind. The current trials were searching for the appropriate amounts and compounds that could be used to…soften that particular effect. What was the point of being immortal if you spent eternity as a vegetable?

And now…maybe not just immortality. Strength. Speed. Healing.

An army.

Or…

Just maybe…

_A god._

“I took some samples from Specimen J.” The woman was speaking. Hojo pulled himself out of his thoughts, focusing on her again, “Even among the Cetra genes there was something else. I just took that something else and isolated it. It was difficult, most of the cells were fused with the Cetra DNA, but once it was removed from the specimen, they seemed to release and cluster together. I worried they were specific to Cetra DNA, but they seemed to adapt to human samples easily enough…They appeared to…temper the effects of the mako on the human. Direct it. I will need to tweak the amounts…”

Yes. The possibility was there. He could almost see it.

J cells…

JENOVA cells.

He knew _she_ would be the one to lead the way.

“Your name?”

She faltered, “Excuse me?”

“Your name, woman!” Irritated, he snapped at her. She flushed. “D-Doctor Lucrecia Crescent. Alumni of the Midgar Institute for…”

 _Doctor Crescent…_ Hojo turned the name over in his mind, tuning out the rest of her self-introduction. Awards and previous positions meant nothing to him. Yes. He would pull the plug on all but the most  promising of the other trials, and then focus personnel and resources on this one. Perhaps he could even request some more…specimens. Some healthy ones—not the underfed, abused, damaged ones in the last shipment. He had a feeling the President would like the idea of a super powered army.

“Notes.” He interrupted her again. Turning away toward the door, mentally preparing the report he would submit tonight, “I will need them. ALL of them. Everything you have on the J-cells.”

“O-of course.”

He’d assumed JENOVA’s circumstances were due to the location she’d been found. The northern crater. They’d replicated everything else using mako. The crystalized skin. The glowing eyes. The mutated flesh…

But JENOVA was not a vegetable. Oh, no.

He’d compared the EEGs. Taken from her, and from the human specimens. The difference was night and day.

JENOVA was _there. She was_ thinking. Watching. Perhaps the crystallization rendered her unable to move. Unable to _communicate._ But she was _there._

It wasn’t the mako. It was s _omething_ about _her._

J-cells…if they could be adapted for human DNA…

x-x-x

“Bah. Another failure.” Hojo turned away from the one-way mirror, where the subject was currently attempting to claw its eyes out. “Sedate it!” He snapped at Doctor Crescent, who hit the button that would pump the gas into the room. In seconds the subject was slumped in a bloodied heap on the floor, and Hojo observed dispassionately as the cuts worked to heal before their very eyes. He wondered absently if the subject’s destroyed eye would regenerate enough to be usable again. Blindness wasn’t something they’d tested. Still. They’d had plenty of opportunity to observe and test the serum’s regenerative properties over the months, but that wasn’t the problem now.

“Useless.” He hissed, turning to the Turk standing guard by the door. It was Lucrecia’s shadow.  “Dispose of it, and be quick about it.”

The man’s red eyes flickered toward the observation window, and then he nodded once, turning and leaving the room. Hojo turned his back to the testing lab, pacing the length of the small observation room attached to it.

“Must we?” Doctor Crescent asked after a moment. She was inevitably watching the dark-haired Turk as he entered the specimen’s containment, just as she always did in case the sedative wore off too soon. Her attachment to that guard in particular was irritating, but it didn’t appear to be impacting either of their work. “There is still much we could learn about the enhancements and healing—”

“What do you think we have been _doing_ these last six months?” Hojo snapped back at her, “We can make a weak man stronger than a behemoth. Faster than a chocobo. And heal mortal wounds.” They’d tested that too. “We _know_ how the J-cells interact with the body. What we _need_ is to figure out the brain. What is the use of creating an ascendant being if they immediately turn on themselves? Tearing themselves apart? There is some sort of disconnect…a dissonance between the host and the J-cells when they reach the brain…almost as if…”

Almost as if they don’t _understand._

Hojo paused, turning that thought over in order to examine it from all angles. He needed to think on that.

“Just…do whatever you like.” Hojo shrugged dismissively, “Stop the Turk. Run whatever tests you see fit.”

He didn’t give her a backwards glance, closing the door behind him. He stalked down the halls, assistants and his other underlings giving him a wide berth as he made his way toward the main lab. To her throne of steel and mako.

Jenova floated before him, still in the same odd position they’d found her in, almost over a year ago now. They had tried to reverse the crystallization process, but they could do nothing for the being trapped within millennia of mako deposits. Not that anyone believed that she was more than preserved remains. None…save him.

“You _are_ trying to understand, aren’t you?” He murmured to the otherwise empty room, meeting the only visible eye. While Doctor Crescent and that buffoon Hollander had their own projects, Hojo had his. He had _studied_ the being that was Jenova. Doctor Crescent might have been the one to initially observe the adaptive behavior of the J-cells, but Hojo had been the one to _understand them._

The progress they’d made over the last year hadn’t been theirs at all. They weren’t finding the perfect formula.

No.

 _She_ was learning.

Each new subject. Each new test. Each time was a way for her to _practice_. To _adapt_ to the human body

Not to say their efforts did not produce results. Far from it. Too much mako, and the mind was swept away. Too little, or none at all, and the J-cells would not take, and the subject would die a horrible, painful death as they attempted to change the body. But they’d _found_ that formula.

Jenova had mastered the body. The question was…could she understand the _mind?_

“Would you like to practice?” Hojo asked the air, thinking back to the directive Professor Gast had left behind. The Ancient Project. Gast let his underlings pursue their own interests, and so Hojo had shelved the project. Gast Farmis wanted to revive the ancients. He’d left Hojo with the puzzle of reverse engineering a Cetra from Jenova’s remains.

A human Cetra hybrid.

“What better way to learn the brain, than to observe it as it grows?” Hojo mused aloud; the human brain was still not very well understood among medical circles either. There had been cases of children surviving and recovering from cases of mako poisoning that would have killed an adult without question. They were far more…adaptable…

…Perhaps…

Alarms blared. A cacophony of sounds shattering Hojo’s concentration. He immediately recognized them as the diagnostic equipment. Alarms that on a human would be the result of something _quite_ fatal…

They silenced before he could reach them. Hojo studied the readings with confusion. Normalcy across the board, and then the…anomaly…and then baseline stats normal again. He looked up at the specimen suspiciously—and froze.

Two red eyes stared at him. Shining with their own light.

That was impossible.

She had been facing _away from_ the equipment. Toward the observation chamber. He had had to travel behind her in order to check on the alarms.

Yet here she was. Staring _right at him._

She _moved._

He glanced between her, and the machine, and back again.

“I…take it you like the idea then?”

Her lips didn’t move. The dead Cetra’s body was nearly covered in a layer of blue materia, but Hojo could see the creature behind her eyes smiling at him. A sharp edged smile.

Gast was wrong. Jenova was not a Cetra. She could not be so _mundane._

She was so much _more._

This would not be Professor Gast’s Ancient Project.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This was written years ago (before I graduated uni, I think.) I'd always intended it to be longer...but Dyra wanted me to post it anyway \o/


End file.
